Budapest
by AvengersIsLife
Summary: The story of a mindless bird, that meets a brilliant spider.


**Sorry for those that read my Budapest story before this. That was what I call an unspeakable, because it was really bad. I have figured out a more interesting plot, so hang in there! Let me know how this one is!**

* * *

_**Budapest, Hungary**_

_**9:36pm**_

"Keep a lookout Barton. She can't know we're here. We've waited too long for this."

Clint Barton rolled his eyes at his handler's remark over the coms.

"Sir, I'm not stupid."

"You sure act like it sometimes."

"Phil, I know what I'm doing. I'm not going to blow this mission. I already blew the one four months ago in Panama."

"Aren't you still on probation for that?"

"… Maybe. Even if I am, I still need to land this chick. Have you _seen_ her file?"

"Clint, your stupid is showing. A) I gave you the file. I organized this mission. B) Everyone has seen her file. She's one of the greats. Even Fury has said that he wanted some of the rookies to study her moves. She's good. Really good."

"Yeah, I know she's good Phil. She's kept off our radar for about six months now. You sure this is where the tip said she'd be?"

"Positive. She's attending the gala tonight, and that's where we need to take her out."

"So it's a kill order?"

"Yeah. She's caused way too much damage."

"Red room origin, right?"

"Did you even read the file on her?"

"I, uh, skimmed it."

"Great. Just great. Do you even know what your target looks like?"

"Phil! I'm not stupid!"

"Sure. Whatever you say Barton. Get ready. They're opening the doors."

Clint rolled his eyes again, but had a smile on his face as he leaned down, and peered through the scope on his sniper. S.H.I.E.L.D. agents were strategically placed at points all around the building where the gala was being held by some important diplomat from some foreign country. Clint didn't really care for details. He just did whatever he was told to do, which was currently to sit on top of a tower and try to get a sight on their target.

After about an hour, less people seemed to flow into the building, but the two floors where the party was being held were packed. A nagging thought grew in the back of Clint's head, but he shook it off. He knew that Phil knew what he was doing. He always did.

* * *

Phil Coulson watched the tower filled up with people bejeweled in their best jewels, dressed up in their most expensive outfits, laden with their most prized possessions. It made him sick, but it also blew up his feeling of protection. He felt like it was his job, his borne duty, to protect these people at all costs, no matter how ridiculous or how rude they were.

When an hour passed, Phil called in for a report, and grabbed some binoculars to check the surrounding area. He hadn't seen their target yet, which was making him a little nervous. Usually when they didn't see her, she had already seen them.

When the reports came in, several agents said that the building was getting a little full. That was going to be a major problem, because Phil was hoping for a quick sniper shot from Clint, but if the room was full of people, then that was out of the question. Quickly he came to a solution.

"Barton. You there?"

"Where else would I be, sir? And by there, do you mean in the same spot that you asked me to be in, or do you mean there as in present, conscious, available to speak? Or do you mean-"

"Barton! Listen up. You've undoubtedly noticed the party is getting a little full, so I want you to-"

"Yes I have noticed. There's a lot of people in there."

"_Barton! _Stop interrupting me like that! I need you to get dressed and get in there. We're changing our approach. I want you in there, in the party, to see if you can nail her. You're the best undercover operative we've got on hand right now, and I need you not to blow this, okay? This is serious Clint."

"Once I find her, do I take her out there and then, or do you want me to lead her to an empty room and then kill her?"

"Empty room is preferable. I don't feel like bailing you out of jail tonight."

"Who said anything about going to jail?"

"You'd get caught, Clint."

"Would not," Clint muttered.

At the other end of the line, Coulson rolled his eyes. "We're wasting time. We haven't seen her yet, but that doesn't mean that she's not in there. Get down here to the van. Rockwell's got a suit you can borrow, and a pass to get you in. Make it snappy, Barton."

As Coulson spoke, Clint was already dismantling his rifle. "On my way sir," he said as he shouldered his bag, walked across the rooftop, then kicked open the door to the staircase and made his way down.

* * *

Coulson was starting to get worried. It had been ten minutes since his last communication with Clint. It only took five minutes to get to the van, three if you ran. Coulson called in to Clint's ear com, but there was no response. He asked another agent in the van, Smith, if he would check Clint's com. It was offline.

That's when Coulson went into panic mode. Though he was just Clint's S.O., Coulson was very protective of his agent. He had recruited Clint from the circus when he was only seventeen. Though that was only four years ago, Coulson and Clint had been through a lot. From weapons rings, to child trafficking, to tracking down contract killers, the two had accomplished a lot, and Coulson felt like Clint was the son he never had.

Therefore, when Clint didn't show up in time, and his com link was offline, Coulson began to freak out inside.

"Grant! Do you have eyes on Clint?" he barked into the radio at another agent in a nearby building.

There were a few moments of silence that felt like an hour for Coulson, and then a burst of static.

"No sir, I do not have a visual on agent Barton. He left the rooftop approximately eleven minutes ago."

Coulson drew in his breath, released his hold on the radio, then let out a few curse words. After he was done, he held back down the button on the radio.

"Okay. Let me know if you see him." Coulson turned to agents Rockwell and Smith, who were watching their boss with rapt attention.

"Sir, if you want I can try to go out and find him-"

"No, Smith, it's okay. Keep on the lookout for the target. I'll radio it in to-"

Just then, they heard banging on the back of the van, and someone yelling in a sing-song voice.

"Phhhiiiilllll! Let me in Phillliip!"

Coulson rolled his eyes, and let out a huff of air, before turning and pushing the door open for Clint to climb inside.

Once in the light of the computer screens in the van, Coulson saw the bruises all over Clint's face, as well as the bloody lip.

"Barton, what the hell happened?"

Clint smiled, then leaned across Coulson to grab the tuxedo that was hanging from a chair, as well as a rag to stuff in his mouth to stop the bleeding.

"I ran into some guys who didn't really seem to like my face. They said that they wanted to rearrange it. I was like, come on guys, I know it's ugly, but no amount of plastic surgery is going to help."

Rockwell and Smith sniggered quietly behind Coulson, out of eyesight, while Coulson glowered at Clint.

"Who were these guys?"

"Street thugs. They were just looking for anyone or anything to beat up."

"Did you take care of them?"

"No I just turned around and walked away, then just accidentally tripped and got all busted up like this- _yes _I took care of them!"

Coulson narrowed his eyes.

"Your com link. Why'd you shut it off?"

"It makes my ear itch, man. And blocks my hearing. I hate it."

Clint flinched under the look that Coulson was giving him.

"Okay, okay. I'm sorry Phil. I really am."

Clint flashed his puppy dog eyes at Coulson, who furrowed his eyebrows, sighed, then rolled his eyes.

"No you're not," Coulson mumbled and smiled.

Clint grinned widely and gave a low chuckle. After a few minutes, he was suited up, and ready to go. He had a gun attached to his ankle, and another in the back of his pants, as well as a couple of knives in his pockets. Rockwell had helped apply some concealer that hid most of Clint's bruises.

After a few minutes of arguing, Coulson persuaded Clint to put back in his ear com, though it was no easy task. By the end of it Clint was pouting like a first grader.

"Alright, Clint. Remember. Find her if you can, then lead her to an empty room, and take her out. Be careful, because she probably knows we're here."

Clint nodded, and still with a goofy frown on his face, hopped out of the back of the van, and strutted to the opening doors, where his pass was accepted.

Once inside the party, Clint moved about, checking every woman's face that he passed by. He didn't see his target, but he kept his eyes open.

* * *

Back in the van, Coulson pulled up a picture of their target. Blonde hair and blue eyes. She was rather pretty, but Coulson knew what she was capable of. She was one of the Red room's best, very dangerous, and very smart.

He began to flip through her file, reading anything that he found relevant. Occasionally he checked in with Clint, but he wasn't having any luck. Suddenly Grant's voice came back across the radio.

"Agent Coulson? You might want to look at who's entering the building."

There was tension in his voice, mixed with a hint of fear, so Coulson immediately grabbed up his binoculars. He gasped as they focused on her.

She wasn't what they had planned for. She wasn't who they had expected. She was a whole different ball game that they didn't have the equipment or man power for.

Coulson immediately grabbed his radio, but kept visual on the red head, who had just shown a pass, and was now entering the building.

"Barton? You there? Clint?"

"Yeah, what's up boss?"

"Get out of there. Get out of there now. It's not Yelena who's here. It's the Black Widow."

Clint froze in fear for half a second, shook his head and blinked, then took a deep breath. He suppressed the anger that was bubbling up inside of him, as well as the dire need to seek her out and put a bullet in her mouth. Coulson seemed to read his mind.

"Clint, don't do it. Don't go after her. She'd take you out then hunt us all down. Wait until we get in touch with Fury so that we can figure out what to do. Just get out of there before she sees you."

Clint gave a half snarl, but decided his handler was right. He began to turn around, when he found someone blocking his path. He looked up, and felt his face pale.

He was looking right into the bright, deadly eyes of the Black Widow.

An impudent grin slid onto her mouth, and she flashed her dazzling teeth.

"Hello, Agent."


End file.
